


Throne of Strings

by assassinslover



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 10:32:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assassinslover/pseuds/assassinslover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: The crack!board that the OB team did, where one of the things was “Delphine takes the iron throne as Cosima’s ‘puppet’.” And everyone wanted it.</p>
<p>Within a day the city was theirs. There was some resistance at first, but it wasn’t long before the guard surrendered, and Delphine’s army worked their way through the city, gaining the people’s trust by distributing food and coin, and Delphine swept them away with her strange, captivating accent, and honeyed words, and promises of a better life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Throne of Strings

**Author's Note:**

> I know I originally said it’d be a crack fic, but I can’t actually really write “crack” fic, so it ended up being more of a crossover, but still, here it is. xD

No one had known where the two of them had come from, but they'd shown up at the gates of King's Landing with an army of monstrous proportions. The Lannisters were all but destroyed, done in by their own pride and lust for power, the King in the North was dead, Stannis Baratheon was locked in conflict with the Boltons, and the last Targaryen vanished from Essos. The Cormier's, they were called, a family banished from Westeros centuries before, almost completely forgotten by history, a one time powerful and influential house that had now returned, stronger than before, ready to take the Iron Throne for themselves amidst the chaos that racked The Seven Kingdoms. The city didn't hold for long. There was already anarchy inside the gates, in Flea Bottom particularly, the people bursting to rise up against the monarchs who treated them so cruelly. When the Cormier's arrived with their hundreds of thousands of men, and their charismatic leader, Delphine, a beauty of a kind not seen in Westeros, and her army's commander, a woman from a land that no one in the kingdoms had heard of, not even the maesters, they practically threw the gates open for her.

Within a day the city was theirs. There was some resistance at first, but it wasn't long before the guard surrendered, and Delphine's army worked their way through the city, gaining the people's trust by distributing food and coin, and Delphine swept them away with her strange, captivating accent, and honeyed words, and promises of a better life. Through the streets they went, to the Red Keep. Those of the lord's who didn't swear fealty were killed or exiled, the rest were bought or cowed into submission. And all the while the mysterious commander was by Delphine's side, a silent, powerful presence, resplendent in her mail, frightening with her dark, piercing gaze.

News spread quickly throughout the Seven Kingdoms, the lords and ladies of the realm being called from their battles and petty squabbles to swear fealty to the Queen Who Felled The Lions. Those who did not respond to the call would be hunted down and would pay for their treason. Delphine's justice would be swift and decisive; she was the ruler now, a fact that she would make abundantly clear. The people would love her, of that she was sure.

The preparations for her coronation feast took a month to prepare. Her vassals came and stayed on nearby estates or in specially prepared apartments in the keep. All the while, her and her commander travelled the streets, listening to the people. There was no need for a guard, no need to protect herself. Delphine would show her people, those that she was sworn to protect, that there was no need to fear her. That she trusted them enough to wander the streets with only one person for company. She would become more loved than Margaery Tyrell had ever been. By the time she was crowned, the citizens of King's Landing were crowding around the sept, as she swore her vows, by both the old gods and the new. Enough food for the entire city to join in the following feast was distributed, and at the end of the night, when everyone stumbled home, drunk and full of bread and meat and fine sweets, Delphine knew that they were praising her name. It really couldn't have gone any better. There was just one thing, however, that no one would ever, ever be allowed to find out.

 

“They love me,” Delphine said, with her hands braced on the stone of the window ledge, looking down from her bed chamber and across the city, where music and drunken laughter was still managing to drift up through the air to her ears. A pair of strong arms wrapped around their waist, and a chin nestled perfectly on the curve of her shoulder. Delphine leaned back into them, letting her eyes slide shut.

“You will need to work to keep it,” Cosima told her, stroking her hips and laying kisses against her neck. Delphine hummed her approval. “Remember, they loved the Targaryens, once, and there are those among them who do not forget the Mad King.” Cosima's arms tightened briefly, and then she pulled away. Delphine heard the soft clanking of metal, and knew that the other woman was hanging her armour on its stand for the night without having to look over her shoulder to see.

“What will we do about those who still refuse to accept my rule?” she asked, leaning on the stone before her once more. There was a pause, more clanking, the sound of a sword being drawn and the creaking of a chair.

“A final warning,” Cosima said, “then they will be given a choice: die, or take their house and flee. There is no room for men like that in our realm.”

“Are you not afraid they will return, as we did?”

“No,” Cosima told her confidently. “They will not have me.” Delphine remained silent, listening to the rasp of Cosima sharpening her blade for several minutes.

“And what about the Targaryen girl?” she finally asked. “What will we do about her?” The noise behind her paused as Cosima considered her question.

“No one knows where she is,” she answered. “I assume she's dead.”

“Should we not send someone to look for her?” Delphine asked, turning away from the window to watch Cosima.

“Perhaps,” the woman replied, putting away her sword before she bothered to look up. “I will consider it, but there are more pressing matters to attend to.” Delphine raised a brow in question. Cosima rose from her chair and gently brushed past her to shut and bar the window, blocking out the noise of the night.

“Such as?” Delphine prompted, when Cosima failed to continue. “Cosima, answer me.” Fear grew in her stomach, unfurling like a venomous snake and ready to strike at her heart. Cosima's back remained turned.

“Marriage,” she finally admitted, having the decency to at least _look_ slightly uncomfortable. Delphine froze, unable to process what Cosima had said.

“Marriage?” she managed to repeat. “ _Marriage?_ No, I will not.”

“You _will_ ,” Cosima said. “We need allies.” Delphine dug her nails into her palms to repress the urge to strike the woman before her.

“I will not do it, Cosima,” she said. Cosima's face darkened, her eyes narrowing.

“You will do as I say,” she said, her voice cruel. “Remember the reason why you've come this far. Remember our deal.”

“And what will happen to us?” Delphine asked snidely. “Do you care nothing for what that will do to us?”

“If you're strong enough, it will do nothing,” Cosima replied dismissively. “If you're unhappy, you can leave, and go back to begging in a gutter.” She sighed, then, and closed the distance between them, reaching out her arms towards Delphine. The woman resisted at first, but then relaxed into her embrace, her face hidden in Cosima's neck. “ _We_ have the power, here,” Cosima continued, her voice gentle now. “Whatever man takes up this role will be nothing more than a puppet. If you wish to never see him again after you've wed then I will make it so.” _Nothing more than a puppet_ , Delphine thought, _as I am._ Cosima pulled back enough to tilt her chin up, and press a firm kiss to her lips.

“I will do this, if you keep to your end of the bargain,” she said. “I do not want to share this man's bed, and I do not want to see him here.”

“I will make it so,” Cosima said, meeting her eyes directly. Delphine took reassurance in what she saw glinting in them: affection and remorse. “But do not question me again. The people may love you, but don't forget which of us has the true power.”

“Do _you_ love me?” Delphine asked. “Or was all of that a lie?” It hurt, deep in the very centre of her soul, that Cosima could so easily push her into something that could tear them apart. Cosima sighed, touched her cheek, and let their lips meet again.

“You know the answer to that question. If I did not, neither of us would be here. Please, you're making this very hard.”

“It should be,” Delphine said softly.

“The Seven Kingdoms are _ours_ ,” Cosima tried, guiding Delphine towards the bed they had shared since they took the city. “We will have order, and we will have peace, and your family shall rule until the end of days, but you need to listen to me.” Delphine relented with a tired sigh, and let Cosima pull at the straps of her dress. “Your name has been restored, you have what you want,” Cosima said in between kisses that set Delphine's flesh on fire. “As do I.” Delphine's dress pooled on the ground, Cosima's shirt and trousers quickly joining it.

 

Not much time passed before suitors were lining up for Delphine's hand. Cosima was pleased, but unsurprised. Delphine was a beautiful woman, on top of now being the most powerful one in Westeros, or so they thought. Delphine couldn't have been less than pleased with the choices presented to her, but she played her part like the finest actress in the world, just as Cosima had trained her to be. Cosima had the final pick of men. Someone who was influential but not too much so, someone who could easily be played to Cosima's wishes, and who would lack the power to cater to his own. Delphine was unhappy, but that was of little consequence. He wouldn't be around for long. Lands could be gifted, titles bestowed, and with enough money any tongue could be silenced, even the most troublesome ones.

The wedding was a particular thorn in her side. So much money spent, though between her own fortunes and those of the Lannisters there was certainly some to spare, but what hurt the most was the distress plastered on Delphine's face, clear to her, but invisible to everyone else. She didn't enjoy putting her lover through such trials, but she had little choice. There was no fame to her own name. History had never had anything to forget about her family, as it had about Delphine's, but Cosima was clever, so very, very clever, and provided that Delphine played her part, no one would be any the wiser. She had won the game of thrones. At least, for the moment.


End file.
